


Indulgence & So On

by Ceirel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, What Turn Will This Take: Only God Knows, can I use slow dancing as vaguely as possible right now, help me god, is Gladio married to Cup Noodles? probably, slow dancing? in my city? more likely than you think, this is gonna be digustingly cute for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 00:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12805716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceirel/pseuds/Ceirel
Summary: Altissia is no doubt beautiful, but one of the quartet has a preordained date with royalty that he doesn't have the pleasure of traveling with. But he does quite enjoy the feeling of his partner in his arms, and so he'll indulge in whatever few moments he can.





	Indulgence & So On

**Author's Note:**

> rev up (don't) your slow dancing feelings for Fleurentia and have a wild ride ft. the chocobros, Cup Noodles, wingmen, slow dancing and eventual lipstick marks

Standing tall, a quartet traversed the grandiose city of Altissia after arrival (after shelling out copious amounts of gil, more like). Admittedly, they travelled a path that was filled with dead ends and numerous other destinations - and a particular one of the four - far from a preordained destination. His gaze swept from one building to another, evidently admiring the level of architecture administered to each individual establishment along the clear bodies of water. Ever wandering was his glance, from one vendor to the canals and back, up to the myriad of faces he had passed. Some of which were scarred, others with a hat adorning the tops of their heads - both of flamboyant and casual fashions - and the standard civilian.

Button noses and round cheeks. Plump lips that sometimes carried a gleeful smile. Soft features, occasionally marred by some sort of injury. Thick, thin, faded, stretching from one limb to another and so on had there been a diversity in clothing. Others held sharper visages, high cheekbones. Dulled irises - those that rivalled vibrant hues with slivers of excitement at times. Wrinkles at the forehead and the corners of the eyes. Unblemished, smooth skin. A pale complexion; a dark complexion. A dim glow fell upon faces with the fall of the sun, offering but an outline of their looks to the male. Nighttime was nigh, and the lampposts had already been set aglow.

Once spared from distractions and a whine that claimed there were no Cup Noodle vendors in sight, the group set out to call the night at a hotel - preferably one close by. Prompto was the first of the four to fling himself onto a bed after nagging ears off, and quite frankly, promptly struggled to leave the newfound comfort zone for the call of food. Even struggled to keep his eyes open for a while before succumbing to the sweet call of sleep.

The tallest, however, lingered at the door frame and hung his head low. His gaze focused within the bright hallway, glazing over the tables with vases and other antiquities. There was a certain.. loss to his eyes - a forlorn look as if he were a husband long gone from his partner. Years upon years; his gaze already far gone past windows and towards the dark veil. Unmistakeable want pooled within his eyes. Perhaps a gleam that indicated slight watering.

Cup Noodles would be his again - of this there was no mistake.

The prince waddled to a nearby bed and simply flopped like a penguin toppling over on a sheet of ice, burying his face within a fluffed pillow. “Gladdy, stop crying over Cup Noodles and get into bed,” came the muffle. The shield clenched a fist and mouthed a vow to find his beloved to the corridor, to the night sky and hanging moon. Flickering flames of determination filled his eyes, but was soon replaced by exhaustion. Ignis, on the other hand, seated himself with a can of Ebony in hand, entirely unphased by the display. Only once did the three finally settle into their beds and let sleep overcome them did Ignis slip past the door with a tiny ‘click’ following the closing door.

Silent calculating steps guided him. A stride that only ever seemed to threaten breaking into a run with each step. It was eagerness that spurred him onwards, and not at all a chance to see a particular individual. He had garbed himself to be no different than a civilian in casual wear; a gust of haste at his feet tugging him along long winded walkways and bridges.

Entering this particular hotel proved to be an easier feat than he had thought along the way - though perhaps it was due to the fact that he was well acquainted with the pros and cons sneaking & entering - but stepping foot inside the building itself invoked a change to his footing. He focused his weight onto his tiptoes and melded with whatever shadows were available to him to ascend the floors the grandiose structure had. Gilded halls, large crystal chandeliers, untold amounts of glossy red carpets to guide the patrons. Tidbits of information floated within the confines of his head, marking locations within the keep in which he could find the prince.

It hadn’t been long ‘till he found himself stopped in his tracks, pivoting on a heel to peer at a balcony, occupied only by one. A notable figure; clad in mostly white with an unmistakable posture, ornate sword sheathed and hanging at his side. Head held high with long forgotten pride. Quiet were the steps that lead the tactician to the nearest pillar of support, and his voice would be the only source of noise to announce his arrival.

“Lively evening,” he started, words twined with varying degrees of softness.

A nod was given in response, a royal gaze downcast once more.

Both had donned a quiet tone amidst the ever growing chatters and cheers that filled the night. The prince had been waiting, as per his own carefully inked instructions, and only in the company of Ignis did he allow himself a brief moment to ease his taut figure. Ravus turned his head to the side, eyes slightly straining to see the figure.

Both men were reserved when it came to physicality, but none had been shy about expressing it. Only if there was ever a time, of course. On a balcony with a glance thrown their way every so often was not ideal in the slightest for either, and thus would keep hands to themselves. Not to mention passing patrons, and passing staff members.

Ignis had initially thought to mirror Ravus’s position as he approached, but instead opted to make his way to his side and peered over the railing. Shrill giggles and boisterous laughter flooded past restaurant doors and filled the skies to induce a bubbly, carefree atmosphere that encompassed most of the city. Limbs thrown here and there: over a shoulder, around a waist, an extravagant expression. Differing hues lowered down to the structures; a smile - if one could call it that - threatened to curl his lips as he indulged in both a lover’s presence and a thrumming city, yet that was only visible to the eyes of Ignis.

Heavy lids came to a close as crystalline green hues disappeared from all sight. Ravus tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he caught the tip of Ignis’s nose. He could barely see much of the tactician’s face, and thus made the tiniest motions in hopes to not rouse the visitor. Though, for a man his size, tiny motions were not something he was all that adept at.

Quiet rumblings escaped his throat as he noted the attempted shiftings in his partner’s physique. Lids cracked open and for a moment Ravus was lost, watching the languid motion with such an intensity. _Was it okay for Ignis to show himself in such a manner?_ His ears continued to ring though the sound had been well overtaken by the commoners.

To think that all this had stemmed from a meeting in a fortress.

“Relax,” was the word to break the brief silence between the two. As much as it was sought after by both, they often did make an exception for one another. Rather, attempted. The pleasant tone that graced the prince’s ears was that of velveteen silk. Thoughtfully threaded, woven with the same grace that twined with his demeanour and only complimentary variants of that ilk. Nigh a lullaby in some instances.

“I am relaxed,” Ravus responded. His voice, on the other hand, had carried elegance but lacked in exhibiting emotion for the most part. Though, it held its own appeal via stoic commandeering.  More so when lowered to little more than whispers.

“This is not relaxed. This is on par with a stone pillar. I avoid using metal because you are not in any form malleable.” By all accounts, Ignis was correct. Rare were the days Ravus had ever seemed even a smidge more than a grim, armoured mannequin pacing to and fro - if at all, any. Any utterance of disapproval was met with a scoff, but tonight it was met with a gloved finger barely ghosting over the prince’s lips.

Ravus tensed at the motion, but hadn’t struck out. He simply watched, a small segment of him amused whilst his nerves were set to red alert. And like Ravus, Ignis watched. Each of the gestures he would make were well in royalty’s view, for him to analyze and make of it what he will. A thumb stretched out slowly, capturing the heterochromia spheres, and began to inch to the nearest curve of his lip. With no reaction, Ignis continued by setting it there and brushing the leather across the outline of the upper lip. Ravus’ eyes narrowed, nigh crosseyed with the full attention he’d shown the extremity.

It was such a pleasure to watch Ravus, and vice versa. To make sense of what they were attempting to show to each other only through gestures, and to pick up on subconscious actions. To understand and work around any issues were they to arise. Needless to say, the amount of fascination they had garnered for one another was an untold amount.

The prince gathered his thoughts over the course of a few minutes. “Not yet malleable,” Ravus breathed. Ignis paused, thumb suspended. “I am expecting you to do something about it, subconscious or not.” Thus the gears were set into place, wound up by the statement and now his brain was ticking. Ignis stared for a good while and proceeded to press down on a set of soft lips.

“Even if I did conjure a subconscious plan, this will only spur me to not visit again,” Ignis retorted.

“That sounds extreme. Are you sure you can go through with it?”

“Is the prince worrying about getting bent? My oh my.”

Suddenly Ravus held his tongue. He walked right into that one, and the slow shifting of Ignis’s expression forced a nostril to flare. It was a smarmy little look, but one Ravus was growing to enjoy. After his tiny victory, Ignis removed his finger. He noted the way Ravus subconsciously trailed after the digit, then lingered there in the space just occupied before straightening himself. “I trust you have a room here?” A thin brow quirked, adding to the question. The prince pulled away and nodded, stretching out his left arm to guide the tactician. Together they exited the balcony and entered the hallway with an air of silence permeating. The two stood close enough that a brush of shoulders would occur every so often, but neither would act on it.

No apology, no murmur, no glance. Only indulgence.

Once ascending a floor and taking a left, Ravus stood before a large beige door with golden ornate spirals hammered to the corners. He inserted the key and pushed it open with a single digit, then motioned for Ignis to enter. The tactician uttered a quiet thanks, but as he entered, an arm stretched out behind him and digits extended in Ravus’s direction. His own invitation. Without a sound nor soul in sight and _only_ after whipping his head from side to side, the prince hesitantly reached for the limb but the first point of contact stirred a retraction. Ignis had yet to face him, body stilled to indicate no form of bodily gesture was to come any time soon. Dextrous digits caressed a gloved palm like a kitten reaching for a string of yarn, and then slid between Ignis’s open fingers. He waited until Ravus clenched before reciprocating, guiding him into the confines of his own room. One that he most certainly didn’t enjoy - more so alone.

It was spacious, and oozed finer quality from every corner. To be expected, considering Ravus’s position. His thumb traced the outside of the tactician’s hand, down to the tip of the pinkie. Ignis finally turned to view his partner. Each step he took was languid, in full view so the prince was free to pull back if he hadn’t wanted Ignis to continue. But the only discomfort he showed was shifting his weight from one foot to another. After prolonged time, their twined hand was raised and Ignis offered the smallest smile he could. Ravus, on the other hand, was blank. Whether it was the first time the prince was ever subjected to such affection was a question that constantly surfaced within the tactician’s mind, making a conscious effort not to set off the poor man.

However, it wasn’t to say that Ravus had stayed stoic all the while. Through careful ministrations, he began to unwind. Lids fluttered and proceeded to close for moments at a time with each subsequent shut lasting a second longer than the last. As much as exhaustion was a factor, it couldn’t hope to trump the need to indulge in his time with Ignis.

Only for Ignis’s sake did he step out of his comfort zone and attempt to express himself as genuinely as he could. Though the worry he had for Lunafreya was overwhelming, he made the effort to make the most out of whatever time he could with Ignis.

From a distance, quiet music spilled through one of the open windows and crept into the room. The allure of violins and piano notes dancing with one another was enough to incite most that passed or had the pleasure of hearing. Without so much of a glance in the musical direction, he gently tugged along the dozing royalty towards the source, and stopped only a few feet away from the windowsill. The tactician began to set up the mannequin before him, setting the live hand on one hip but had left the prosthetic in place, already aware of his disdain for the gauntlet. Ignis’s free hand now cautiously sought for Ravus’s collarbone and gained a curious look in response. “There,” the tactician cooed; gradually inclining his head to face the prince.

Slow, steady blinks were all that he was met with for a few moments, as if Ravus had only just registered the movement. His ears twitched at the little coo and - as a whole - almost melted in place, finding that it would be far better to simply bury his face at the crook of the tactician’s neck. A few blinks later, he noted that his hips were swaying in tune to the music, and with Ignis’s no less. Synchronized, too.

The prosthetic limb dangled by his side, swinging every so often to a particular string or key. After much deliberation he pinched at the air, setting the gauntlet to snake towards Ignis’s waist though the action was painfully slow. He had to give Ignis everything, a thought that constantly nagged at the back of his mind. As much distaste he held for the power-infused metal, he would put it to use. The lustrous digits extended and sharpened tips just barely protruded past the flimsy material. Scrutinizing spheres were glued to his partner’s visage.

No wince, no discomfort - nothing but that lingering tiny smile.

It only took the slight dusting of pink over his cheekbones and an increase in temperature to perform the aforementioned thought, sharp features disappearing from Ignis’s sight. His forehead brushed against the shirt and he inclined his head just a touch, enough for his lips to settle onto fabric and conceal the small smile that graced his own lips.

The two swayed in a clockwise manner, lost in the comfort and warmth they provided to each other. Ravus expelled a warm breath that crashed over Ignis’s neck like a roaring wave, nigh threatening to press a brief kiss to the skin but was not given the chance to. Not when Ignis had some concoction brewing in the depth of his mind. A gloved hand tapped along the outline of his coat and journeyed to the nape at a leisurely pace. With a singular stroke along the length of his neck, fingers were stranded in a field of snow. Each touch that he offered was only brimming with affection, each a token of unspoken fondness he had gained over time for the prince. Lips broadened as he elicited a deep purr from the worn lover; index finger etching small swirls as a means to gather strands and coil them. The other digits curled inwards against the skin and scritched gingerly, repeating the motion on the return. Up to the scalp, and ending with an affectionate pet.

By now, Ignis was aware of the tremble affixed to the rigid frame and sought to ease him of such. He hadn’t felt any form of wetness at his collarbone, so crying was not a question to be asked. Perhaps this was his way of indulging in his newfound emotions, or at least _feeling_ them. Understanding them. Whilst the tone of the music hadn’t changed in any way or form, nor fallen into a lull, ears twitched.

Not two, but four.

The tactician loosed a small sigh and Ravus was upright in mere seconds, glaring at the door. Ignis, however, turned his attention to the open window. Bumbling idiots at the entrance, hissing at one another to stay quiet. Courtesy of Prompto for yawning, as well. The tactician made a mental note of the intrusion. Ravus and his partner donned a whisper-esque pitch and glanced to one another.

_”Much as I love this, I have a ‘sneaking suspicion’ someone is at the door. Make that three someones.”_

_“By ‘sneaking suspicion’, I assume you mean the boy band paparazzi is here.”_

_“I hope you aren’t tired, your highness.”_

**Author's Note:**

> this will be continued, I just need time to write it up because of work, but thank you so much for taking the time to read it! <3 
> 
> let me know if I diddled something somewhere in there, or if you have suggestions/comments! 
> 
> might be prone to subtle edits with grammer and the likes.


End file.
